


Before the Sun

by xSparklingRavenx



Category: God Eater (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Psychological Trauma, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-11-02 00:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSparklingRavenx/pseuds/xSparklingRavenx
Summary: An injury in the field leaves Hugo out of the next mission sortie. Stuck on board the Chrysanthemum with only a select few others for company, he finds himself playing the unexpected role of father to Phym while dealing with the damage of his all-to-recent past.





	1. FALL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slip up in the field has unexpected consequences for one Hugo Pennywort...

In the city near where Port Pennywort stood before an Ash Storm swept it away, rain came hammering down, the sky a darkened mess of blackened clouds. Sweeping his sodden hair from his face, Hugo carefully surveyed the area he was patrolling, the downpour hardly hindering his vision. It was not the worst weather he’d fought in, not by any means. That would have been snow.

 _“No sign of the Aragami yet, huh?”_ Amy’s voice crackled over his radio, wary and concerned. _“Be careful, the situation could change at any moment! The second target is still far off, but you must be vigilant!”_

The static responses of the others came, though his distance from them hampered the radio’s effectiveness. Irae had ordered them to split up as they looked for the Fallen Havakiri, but the rain coupled with the size of the city was having an impact on communications. Lulu’s response was nothing more than fragmented words, while Claire’s was barely audible. Amy had a direct line, but their field-radios were less effective.

As he passed another building, he heaved his God Arc up over his shoulder, the Aragami still nowhere in sight. All he’d managed to destroy on this mission so far was his hair, which for all intents and purposes, was now beyond saving. He’d been rationing out the products Hilda had on board the Chrysanthemum for a while now, but the stocks were running low. The very fact that he had the freedom to be concerned over such a trivial problem was still something he had trouble believing. 

Still, though, he found nothing. The city remained eerily quiet. Hugo walked through places he’d passed through a thousand times before, but Amy didn’t bother him with cruel abuse or muttered insults. Whenever her voice came over the radio, it was always some fancy or another, about what she was planning for dinner tonight or where Sleepy Paws was curled up. It was a pleasant change, one he was sure Lulu and Irae were happier for too.

An almost inaudible transmission came over his radio as he turned another corner, Lulu’s voice catching and stuttering as his radio struggled to convey the message. _“Target—ing for—engage—Point J.”_

He had to guess that she’d found it. “Roger,” he said into his own device. “Turning back now, hang in there for me.”

 _“Hold on, wait!”_ Amy’s sudden cry had him pausing, his hold on his God Arc tightening. _“There’s something else coming up—what? Already?”_

A roar behind him had Hugo twisting on the spot, his breath catching as a Caligula howled from atop one of the crumbling buildings. He could see the way its cry distorted the air around it, how it warped the very space it existed in. A Deusphage, they called it. A servant of God, an Aragami he shouldn’t be taking alone.

“I’ve made contact with the secondary target, it’s appeared sooner than we expected,” Hugo said. “I’ll hold it off as long as I can, but I’m going to need back-up.”

That was as much as he got to say before the Caligula leapt from the rooftops, the blades from its arms extended to their full length. He dove to the left instantly, the very tip of its right blade a hair’s breadth from him, only inches away from taking his head from his body. “Not very sporting of you,” he muttered, forcing himself up without a moments hesitation. To falter would leave him open, and to leave himself open would mean death.

As the Caligula turned to face him, he struck outwards, Imaginia’s blade clashing with its blue scales. The raindrops falling around them turned to ice, its very presence freezing them solid. His jacket didn’t do much to protect him from the cold, but he had no time to complain about it.

He bounced backwards, reading the Aragami’s movements in an instant as it reared its head back with a growl. He moved his hands around the handle of his God Arc, the different parts of it sliding around in the blink of an eye, his shield deploying outwards as if he’d done it with just a thought. Its icy breath slammed into its surface, frosting the shield over, the cold biting into his fingers. He held on, a grim smile on his face. “My turn.”

As soon as the opening presented itself, he turned, rushing away from the Caligula as his shield shifted again, Mayfly’s Will forming in his hands. The beast gave chase, its speed outmatching him, the distance he’d been hoping to put between them closing in an instant. Gritting his teeth, he skidded to a spot and turned his body at the same time, his fingers hitting the trigger. A powerful blaze bullet freed itself of the God Arc’s barrel, slamming into the Caligula’s face and making it stop short.

 _“Hound 1 and Claire have met with the primary target, and are engaging in battle!”_ Amy sounded concerned, her voice several octaves higher than before. _“Hugo, are you holding up?”  
_

“Just about!” Hugo hit the trigger several more times, shot after shot as his God Arc emptied itself into the Caligula’s face. The heat of it evaporated the rain, steam rising around the Aragami’s form, but it still wasn’t breaking its bonds. He hit the trigger again, one more time—

And the God Arc clicked, its OP completely dispersed. “Uh oh,” Hugo set off running again as the Caligula swiped its mighty claws at him. A second earlier and he would have been caught in its grasp, torn apart like paper. “If anyone’s nearly done with the Havikiri I could do with the assistance!”

The gun fell apart as he moved his hands to the hilt, returning to Imagia’s blade. As the Caligula leapt over his head to land in front of him, Hugo jumped, crashing the blade into the beast again and again, its scales standing strong even at the onslaught. As he landed, he skidded, the rain having made the city’s concrete floor treacherous and dicey. Recovering took him longer than his usual half-second allowances, and when he glanced backwards again, the Caligula was rising into the air, its boosters active, its wings frozen and wide.

His shield took too long to deploy, and the burst of energy it sent out caught him straight on, throwing him halfway across the field. It was only through sheer force of will that he kept his grip on his God Arc as he hit the floor, pain crushing his shoulder and arm where he’d landed on them. He bit back his cry and forced himself up, and within the moment he was back in the fray again. One mere blow wasn’t enough to knock his confidence. If it was, the guards back at Pennywort would have beaten it out of him a long time ago.

Now he knew the floor was slippery, he could use it to his advantage. When it brandished its own blades, he slid beneath them. When it rampaged, it couldn’t come to a stop immediately, letting him brawl with it until it recovered. While the others were fighting the Havikiri, he had to keep it on him. Taking on two large Aragami was a feat for anyone, even Irae, and though Hugo knew he couldn’t match up to his friend’s skill, he didn’t fancy the idea of having to face both Aragami at the same time if he let it get near the others.

He could hear Amy calling for them, fretting when they were injured, cheering them on. They needed him to protect them, so he was going to give his all to keep it away from them. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the thrill of it all, of taking it on one-on-one. He’d always liked playing things a bit on the risky side. It was why he’d go out of bounds, why he’d talk back, why he’d think up back-up plan after back-up plan. The guards had never managed to curb him on that. He’d never let them have the victory.

But the problem with fighting one-on-one meant that it only took one slip-up for things to go catastrophically wrong.

He’d just broken the bonds on its back legs when it turned suddenly, whipping its head around and catching him in the chest with its curved horns. The blow took him off his feet, throwing him back into a nearby building, the impact denting the side of it. His world went dark as his head hit the concrete, pain like lightning in his bones. He hit the floor unceremoniously, unable to move for a moment, his entire body feeling broken. His God Arc had gone flying elsewhere. He barely heard it go clattering across the city’s pavements.

If he hadn’t been a God Eater, an AGE, the collision would have killed him. As it was, the impact had done him damage. When he forced his eyes open, his vision was obscured with diluted red, his blood mixing with the rain and streaming down his face. He couldn’t see his God Arc, but he could see the Caligula, already gearing up to come charging his way. “Worthless,” he muttered to himself, his voice weakened, an echo of something he’d heard thrown his way too many times before.

 _“Hugo, vitals are low! Be careful!”_ Amy’s voice was a lance through his head, making him wince, but it worked. He got to his feet, staggering out of the way of its rampage only to get caught in the back by its raking claws, taking apart his jacket from behind and down through to his skin. The wounds it opened were raw in an instant, the force it put behind the blow throwing him a good few feet. He hit the floor again, and this time, he couldn’t get up, the pain overwhelming. His breath came fast, ragged. He could feel the Caligula’s eyes on him, predatory, ready for a meal.

He raised his head, spotting his God Arc lying not far from him. The Caligula wasn’t the only one who was starving, and it was that thought that got him back up again. He darted right just as the Caligula leapt at him, the wounds in his back screaming at the movement, his body jarred entirely. He couldn’t waste time being overwhelmed by it. He ran, reaching down to grab his God Arc as he bolted past it, and then he turned, back towards the Caligula. It was sliding on the concrete again, too much momentum behind its failed attack, and that was his chance.

He slammed the Imaginia blade down onto its face, the bond shattering beneath it. The Caligula collapsed, and Hugo took the opportunity, unleashing the monster that lived within his God Arc. Its jaws leapt forwards hungrily, devouring he Aragami mercilessly, its Oracle Cells fusing with Hugo’s own. Again and again he brought his blade down, energised, faster, more Aragami than human in his Burst-state. Bonds broke before him. It had to be nearly done.

But still, it got back up. Thinking he had time, he reached into his pockets for a pill only for its tail to sweep around, taking his legs out from under him. He went down hard, landing on his back, staring straight up at the darkened clouds. _“Hugo, your vitals are dangerously low!”_ Amy cried. He could feel it. Even though he was still in his Burst-state, he felt so lethargic.

The Caligula leant over him, its frosty breath in his face, its razor-teeth dangerously close. “I won’t die here,” he growled, grabbing his God Arc. Using all the strength he had left, he jammed the blade into the space between its eyes,

It howled, rearing back as he yanked Imaginia out. Behind its head, a blur shot across the sky, incomprehensible to Hugo’s blurred vision. He smirked despite himself. There was no need to see properly to know who it was. A pair of serrated swords found their home in the Caligula’s back, drawing its attention away from him. Irae. He’d made it.

Hugo pushed himself to his knees, using his God Arc as a support, but it was difficult to focus with how badly his body was aching now. He swallowed his pill as Irae battled with the Caligula, but it did little to even out his vitals. Knowing there was no way he could rejoin the fray now, he switched Imaginia back into Mayfly’s Will, and aimed for Irae.

“Take this for me,,” he whispered, firing the burst-bullet he’d acquired from devouring the Caligula. The second it made contact with Irae, his entire battle style changed, burst-arts a flurry in the field, purples and greens melding together in the pouring rain. Amy said time and time again that he was an artist with a God Arc. Hugo was starting to understand what she meant.

His vision darkened. It was belatedly he realised that there was a significant amount of blood on the floor. His own, not the Aragami’s, the wounds in his back must have been deeper than he’d initially thought.

How dizzy he was. _Worthless,_ he thought, the word a hazy sound even in his own memories, before he collapsed forwards, his consciousness a faded thing as the rain continued to pour, unrelenting despite it all.

\-- 

Though they had been on the Chrysanthemum for a while now, Hugo hadn’t yet adjusted to waking up in a place that wasn’t the prison.

Unlike the one he opened his eyes to now, the ceiling above his bed back at Pennywort had been cracked, sixty seven individual scars in his little section alone. Once, when he’d been particularly bored, he’d gone on to count the areas above Zeke’s bed, Irae’s, Keith’s, and found similar numbers there too. There hadn’t been much to do back then. Not like there was now. If someone asked him what the ceiling in the boys cabins looked like, he wouldn’t be able to answer, because the truth would be that he’d never looked.

The ceiling he was greeted with today, though, was white, unscarred and unblemished. The medical bay back home, he realised, which meant that the mission must have been completed successfully even though he’d been knocked out halfway through. Relief washed over him as he sat up. Nothing much hurt anymore, one of the more positive effects of being an AGE. No matter what, he was always ready for the next mission.

The torn remnants of his jacket were strewn over the back of a nearby chair, and when he looked down, he noticed that his shirt had been replaced with a regular white one. Shifting slightly revealed bandages wrapped around his midsection, no doubt to cover the wounds he’d sustained on his back. He wished they hadn’t wasted the resources on him, not when his injuries healed so fast to begin with. There was no point.

No one else was in the room, and he felt good enough to go, so he didn’t think twice about informally discharging himself. Getting up proved that he was at least still feeling _some_ of the effects from yesterday—his shoulder hissed at him when he moved, and his back was still raw—but in the grand scheme of things, it was nothing he couldn’t shrug off. Hilda would need him back on the field, but more than that, he himself needed him back on the field. Nobody got information on Ashborn by being stuck in the infirmary.

He grabbed his jacket on the way out, a little sore that it had been damaged so badly, and made his way for the elevator back to the bridge. Keith was hanging around outside as usual, grinning wide when he laid eyes on him. “Hey, Hugo, up and at ‘em already? Nice, you looked a right state when they brought you in yesterday. Claire was beside herself!”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Hugo said, though he wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. His memories of the battle yesterday had become fuzzy.

“Yeah, sure it wasn’t. Everyone’s up on the bridge getting ready for some expedition or something, so you’d better hurry up if you wanna join them.”

“Right.” An expedition? That meant they’d be away for a couple of days, camping out in the Ashlands with only their God Arcs and each other for protection when the night closed in. He had to get out there. Hitting the relevant button on the lift, he stepped into it and waited for it to reach the right floor.

The bridge was a bustling hub of activity when he got there, just as it usually was. Zeke was chatting animatedly with Lulu, Claire, and Irae by the doors when they opened, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he walked up behind them. He glanced over, eyes wide, before relaxing, throwing both of his arms behind his head. “Man, Hugo, warn a guy next time!” he said, before he stopped short. “Oh hey, you’re up!”

“You look better.” Lulu said, a small smile gracing her features. “Well, apart from the bruising. That might take a few more days to clear up.”

He hadn’t had the time to look in a mirror, but he could imagine the colourful mess his face currently was. Phym popped her head out from behind Irae’s leg, her smile infectious. “Hugo’s better now? Good, good! Daddy was really worried, you know? He didn’t say it, but I could tell. Claire said he beat the Aragami up really bad!”

Hugo glanced up at his friend, who just offered a gentle smile that told him everything he needed to know. Claire was telling the truth. His tranquil nature outside of the field belied his fury in a fight. There was a reason Hugo usually functioned as his support instead of taking down Aragami by himself; it was better to watch his back while he cleaved his way through beasts that would have even the most experienced of God Eaters running the other way.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Hugo said half directing the statement towards them, half directing it towards Hilda who was standing just a little away by the consoles. “I won’t be taken out like that again. I heard from Keith that we’ll be heading out on an expedition—when are we expected to leave?”

Claire, Lulu, and Irae all glanced between one another. “ _They’re_ expected to leave at 1500 hours,” Hilda said, her heels clicking against the floor as she joined their little group. “You will not be accompanying them while you recover.”

For a second, he’d thought he’d heard her wrong. “What do you mean, ‘while I recover?’ I’m feeling just fine, I’ll fight.”

“You can’t be serious. Do you know how badly injured you were?” Claire’s question was clearly rhetorical, but he tried to answer it anyway. She spoke straight over him. “No, Hilda’s right. We’ve got Ricardo with us, we’ll be fine.”

“Yep, you’re not the only one on the bench, buddy.” Zeke crossed his arms and yawned. “Though, it’s not like I wanted to be out there anyway, not with how it’s still pouring with rain. Besides, me and Keith have some techy stuff to go over, though I don’t have a clue what he’s saying half the time. In one ear, out the other, you know? He uses all these words and I just don’t have a damn clue what any of them mean.”

Hugo looked at Hilda, who stared right back at him. “But, I’m fine,” he insisted, uncertain of what exactly was the problem. Back at Pennywort, injuries were a flash in the pan, a mild inconvenience as far as the guards were concerned. If you could walk, you could fight, and if you couldn’t, you were a waste of resources. He couldn’t be that. Not to Hilda.

“You might think you’re fine, but I don’t make a habit of sending injured personnel out on missions. In my experience, an inured fighter is more likely to make mistakes, and a mistake on these fields _will_ get you killed, Hugo.” Hilda’s gaze was piercing, but she also looked concerned. “I know what you’re used to, but it doesn’t happen this way here. You’re off the job until you’re fully healed, no ifs, no buts.”

Irae offered him a helpless smile, as if to say, _that’s that,_ but Hugo didn’t know how to process what Hilda had just told him. He opened his mouth, eager to prove his point, that he _could_ go out, but she shut him down immediately. “I know how good you are at making an argument, Hugo, but this is set and final. The mission has already been decided, and you’re staying at home. If you want to be helpful in another way, you can be on dinner duty tonight.”

“I thought Zeke was on dinner duty.” Phym said. Zeke shook his head at her, looking alarmed. “Yeah! He was! He was sad about it earlier.”

“Oh, I see. Then you can wash the dishes if you feel the need to do something, Hugo.” Hilda said, a smile playing upon her lips. He couldn’t believe he’d been read so easily. “Are we satisfied then? Yes? Good. Done. Team, good luck out there, and we’ll see you back safely.”

Hugo had nothing to say to that. As Phym hugged Irae goodbye, as the rest gathered their things, Zeke slung his arm around Hugo’s neck and said, “Well, would you look at that. Day off for both of us! When’s the last time that’s happened for you, huh?”

Never. In his gut, he felt a hunger take hold, an incessant need for his God Arc, a kind of starvation that no ordinary food could fill. It should have been good news, and yet he couldn’t help but wonder; what was he supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, who cannot write action for the life of me: starts a fic with a giant action scene
> 
> I meant for this to be a short thing, but in my usual style, I ended up 3k words in before Hugo even got the news that he's not going on the next mission lmao. Julius remains my favourite GE character, but Hugo's coming up as a very close second...anyway! Thank you for reading the first chapter of this thing. Title and summary are subject to change a little bc I write by the seat of my pants and don't tend to plan much, but it usually tends to work out, so hopefully I'll hammer out the next chapter within the next three months or so. (Joking, I hope. I'm slow but not THAT slow.)
> 
> Other notes...I don't particularly like writing OC's, but GE3 kind of makes that impossible with the focus on the protagonist, so Irae is my selectively mute, white haired, baby boy who I'll try not to write about too much. I can shove a picture up on tumblr if anyone is interested in what he looks like. I also take a few liberties with the lore, but dammit, I've entrenched myself in it for years so I think I can play around with it a bit where I need to?? Well, the hunger thing comes from the fact that the game states multiple times that people consider AGEs to be more Aragami than human, so I wanted to show that a little bit here. 
> 
> Hugo himself--I've tried my best to keep him in character, but his voice is really difficult to nail! This fic is sort of my response to the fact that the game never really goes into the lingering trauma of what the AGEs faced. I know he's a confident, charismatic lad, but I wanted to delve a little bit into his psyche. We'll see how it goes!
> 
> More tags to be added later (I didn't want to add characters who only get one speaking line atm and clog up their tags with fics not about them) so we'll see how we go! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this opening chapter! I beta-read everything myself and am absolutely mortified when mistakes get found, but if you see anything, do let me know and I'll edit ASAP!


	2. HUNGER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easy to slip on yourself when the hunger inside wants you to let loose. The end of the story is always bleak, as far as Hugo is concerned, and it's difficult to believe otherwise when he's always changing the words so the others don't realise.

Hugo was fifteen when he found a book in the city near Port Pennywort.

The city was quiet that day, eerily so, considering that it was meant to be crawling with Aragami according to Port Pennywort’s reports. His radio crackled from his belt, an operator shouting the regular kind of abuse. He hardly heard them. The book commanded all of his attention, because such a find was rare.

_“Hound 1, I won’t ask again, get your ass out of the restricted area and get back on the field!”_

He knelt down among the debris, passing Imaginia to his left hand as he pried the book free with his right. It was falling apart, the cover torn so badly that he wasn’t able to read the title, if there ever was one. He thought that it looked a little bit like he felt, ripped apart and yet still hanging on, the spine clinging to its pages for dear life.

The radio sparked to life, hissing again. “ _Hound 1, I said, get back onto the field!”_

Clicking his tongue, Hugo straightened up, lifting his God Arc over his shoulder as he inspected the book closer. “There’s no Aragami there. I won’t stay where there’s nothing to fight.”

“ _You impudent little shit_ — _”_

He stopped listening. There was no point. The operator wouldn’t listen to him and talking back was useless when it would only get him disciplined. Instead, he flipped the book over, checking the back of it, and then the front again, hoping it might be some kind of storybook. He could read it to the kids back at the Port, if it was. He was the only one of them who was appropriately literate, and they were always in need of an escape.

The sound of something shifting behind him snagged his attention away, his heartbeat quickening. Immediately on guard, he dropped the book, twisting as he did so. In half a second he had his shield deployed, just in time to block the flaming ball thrown his way. A Blast Spider had appeared; swaying from side to side in front of him. It was newly emerged from the ground, its back pulsing.

“Finally,” he said, a grim smile on his face. “Irae, I’ve got eyes on a target. I’m at Point K, out of bounds.”

There was no response over his communication device, but it meant nothing. His partner would have heard him, and was no doubt already on his way. They’d split up to scope the area, but he wouldn’t have gone far.

There was no time to wait for him, though. Hugo leapt forward, his God Arc switching back to Imaginia in his hands as he slammed the blade down into the Blast Spider. It screeched, its front legs nearly slicing straight into him, forcing him to dodge before slashing back when the opportunity arose, Out the corner of his eye, he spotted a second Spider emerging from the earth, followed by another, and then another. Taking them down all at once was the only option; if they got the advantage, it was over.

Darting around the back of the first spider, he plunged his God Arc into its body. The weapon was like an extension of himself, and as he breathed out, he pulled back, Imaginia freeing itself of the Spider as it transformed again in his hands. He fired the gun before it had even finished morphing, frosted bullets slamming into all of the Spiders as he sprayed his fire across the area.

In the field it had always been sink or swim, and he’d never been one for drowning.

Two Spiders fell beneath the barrage. As his OP reserves dried out, he prepared for the switch back to Imaginia, only for one of the Spiders to recover faster than he’d anticipated. As it spat blistering flames from his mouth, he realised that there was no time to deploy his shield. Abandoning it, he tried to dart left—only for the blast too strike him square in the chest.

The force of it blew him backwards, as he slammed into the floor he could feel the flames searing at his clothes, his skin. Coughing, he rolled onto his front, grasping for his God Arc with one hand as he pushed himself up with the other. They were advancing. Even with two down, he was still outnumbered—but not for long. In the distance, he spotted something moving, a blur rushing towards him.

Perfect timing. Staggering to his feet, he faced the Spiders with a grin. “That all you’ve got?”

The blur leapt upwards. The Spiders twisted, their attention drawn, and in that moment Hugo reared back with his God Arc and unleashed its true form. Its jaws surged forwards eagerly as he let it lead, giving it the feast it desired. In an instant, Oracle cells flowed into it, giving him the Burst he needed.

And same moment, Irae came crashing down from the sky, his twin blades slamming into the back of one Spider, killing it instantly.

“Nice save,” Hugo said. Dragging his blades out of the Spider, Irae answered with only a single nod of acknowledgement before he set upon another, his movements so fast that he seemed more demon than human. Hugo fired one of the Burst bullets he’d obtained from the devour his way before turning to face another. With someone to back him up, his confidence was renewed.

All that was left was to win.

Alone, they were forces to be reckoned with. Together, they were a frenzied hurricane of slashing blades and fast paced gun-fire. Hugo kept pace with his partner, who took blows like he was made of iron, who refused to falter even when the Spiders sliced and scorched at his skin.

He was powerful, more powerful than any other AGE in the port. They all knew it.

But he was not invincible, and everyone knew that too. Hugo had a duty to him, the very reason why they were always partnered up together. Switching back to Mayfly’s Will, he fired a healing spray towards Irae. The green light of the Oracle Cells coated him, instantly closing his wounds, giving him the final boost he required to finish the fight.

“Let’s end this now!” Hugo cried.

Irae pushed the ends of his blades together, creating his glaive, and proceeded to cleave through the Spiders in front of him. Hugo followed behind, dragging his blade through what is left, making sure that everything was truly dead. The Spiders fell one by one, powerless in the face of their combined power.

“Get back, they’ll explode!” Hugo called as he felled the last one. As he dove out of the way, Irae leapt into the air, high above it all. The explosion came suddenly, the Spider’s carcasses nearly taking Hugo off his feet. Jamming his blade into the ground, he held on tight, white knuckled as the shockwave passed over them.

As the blast dispersed, Irae dropped from the sky, cat-like as he landed. He wasn’t even out of breath, typical of him. Hugo laughed. “Always have to show off, huh?”

Irae smiled in return, only for his expression to fall as both of their radios sparked to life once again. _“Targets eliminated, so get back to Point A ASAP for extraction. Make it quick, or you’re in for it when you return.”  
_

“Like we’re not already screwed,” Hugo muttered. It was quiet, but the operator on the radio still caught his words, setting off on a tirade about useless mutts that didn’t know how to follow orders. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Hugo said, and when it didn’t stop them, he tried again. “I know. I know. _I know._ ”

It was their reward. Every day, they fought to protect a port that treated them little better than animals, and every day, Hugo put up with it in the hope that maybe someday it would be better.

Today was not that day. The operator carried on, hissing about how they still weren’t broken-in, how he had to put up with ungrateful vermin that didn’t know how good they had it. Hugo should have ignored it. He’d learned how to ignore it.

But he couldn’t.

He reached for the radio. Irae’s head tilted in response, confused, but it was only as Hugo was about to slam the cursed device into the ground that he realised what he was about to do. Grabbing his arm, Irae gently lowered it, removing the radio from his grip.

Hugo’s hands were still shaking, though. He was more angry at the operator than he’d ever been at the Aragami.

Shaking his head, Irae put the radio on his belt, next to his own. Hugo turned his back on him, unable to think of a single thing to say, ashamed at himself for slipping even in such a minor display.

But then he saw the book again, still intact even after the Spider’s explosion. Kneeling down, he picked it up and put it carefully in the bag that was tied to his belt, nestled among the other materials he’d scavenged from the city.

It wouldn’t craft him a new God Arc, but maybe it would provide the escape they needed. He hoped, more than anything, it would.

Their benefactors at the Port were not kind upon their return. They went back to the cell that night more bloodied and bruised than they’d been after the fight with the Spiders. Aragami were vicious but they were allowed to fight back when it came to them. The guards were different; if he or Irae ever raised a hand to their masters, it would be worse than a beating they received.

Irae lost his balance as he was shoved forward, landing hard on his knees. Hugo was at his side instantly as the cell door swung shut behind them, his attempts to help him stand hindered by the limited movement of his arms. Two sets of eyes tracked them from the beds, but the others wouldn’t come to them yet.

Irae shuddered, his right eye blackened and his nose bloodied. Hugo had no idea what his own face looked like, but it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume it was the same, given how much it hurt. Instead of trying to get Irae to stand, he remained on his knees beside him, speaking softly.

“You’re alright, it’ll pass. We survived the day, which means we get another chance to live tomorrow.”

He said the same thing every day. It was their tradition, their ritual, something he’d kept up ever since they were children being forcefully conscripted for their roles. Resting his forehead gently against Irae’s, he breathed out mindful of the bruising. They remained there for a moment, silent, just listening to the sound of each other’s breath. They would heal, faster than any normal human. By morning, it would be like nothing had ever happened.

Footsteps behind him alerted Hugo to an impatient child’s presence. He broke apart from Irae, turning halfway with a small grin. “Hey, Zeke.”

Zeke looked as uncertain as ever. “It’s okay?”

Nodding, Hugo said. “It’s okay.”

Zeke dithered, even despite his assurance. His brother, Keith, joined him, peering over his shoulder. They were younger than them by a large margin; Zeke not having even made it to his teenage years while Keith was still single digits, and yet like them, their armlets were linked and cumbersome. Children were all they had left. They’d lost too many this year, and now Hugo was the oldest of them all.

“Were they mad at you?” Keith asked.

“Yeah,” Hugo said, helping Irae stand now that he’d calmed a little. He guided him to his bed and then walked to the sink, twisting the rusted faucets and splashing dirty water in his face as he tried to shift the blood. It stung, but he kept it up. “I said something and it pissed them off.”

“I thought you were the _good_ one.” Zeke said impudently. “But you’re always getting beat up. Why can’t I mouth off at the guards then?”

“ _Zeke_ ,” Hugo hissed, his eyes darting to the guard that stands at the door. Zeke glanced over, but for once, the guard was too busy messing around with his tablet to pay attention to what they were saying. Hugo breathed out in relief. “You can’t mouth off because you’re a kid, and I won’t have you getting your face broken in because you said the wrong thing.”

“Spoilsport. You’re boring, Hugo.” Zeke huffed. He sat next to Irae and yawned, Keith joining him at his side. “We spent all day picking up crap outside and now I’m falling asleep. I hear they’re gonna let me fight soon, though. I’m gonna get to join you guys out on the field!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you have high Ash resistance.” Keith said, falling back onto Irae’s hard pillow. “That’s what they say.”

Hugo felt his heart sink at their words. Silently, he looked back at the pictures they’d been accumulating on the wall, their memorial ground for the companions they’d lost. The truth of it all was that no one survived their line of work. Death came for them all, whether it was in the jaws of an Aragami or an operator who took things too far. It was a hopeless fight, and one he didn’t want to subject any more of them to.

But the rules weren’t his to make. He was a tool, a cog in the machine, a hound, a dog, a mutt. Even when he kept himself in line, the operators found fault with him. Zeke and Keith didn’t stand any kind of chance.

His hands were shaking again, he realised. He was close to bashing the entire sink off the wall. He could, too; he was more Aragami than human. The guards had told him as much his entire life.

“Hugo?” Zeke’s voice was what brought him back. He turned to find the three of them are staring at him.

“I’m okay.” Hugo stepped back from the sink and struggled to untie the bag at his belt. It took him multiple attempts to get it free, but once he got it, he held it up like it was a prize. “Sorry, I forgot with everything else going on, but I managed to find something pretty cool out in the city today.”

“Oh?” Keith’s eyes went wide. “Rare materials?”

“Better.” Hugo returned to his own bed and upended the bag’s contents onto it. Bits of cotton and metal fell out first, followed by the book hitting the hard mattress with a _thump._ Both boys jumped off the bed to come to inspect his finds instantly. “Check this out. I found a book.”

Zeke prodded it with a finger. “Well, good for you, I guess? Surely the materials are better, then you can make more stuff to kick Aragami ass.”

Keith, ever more inquisitive than his brother, picked it up and turned it in his hands. “You’re only saying that ‘cause you can’t read.”

“Well, yeah, but what good’s it gonna do Hugo?”

“It’s not _for_ me.” Hugo said. He took the book from Keith, handling it gently as he examined it. Getting it open without damaging it took some work, but with some careful handling and using his bed as a stand, he managed to look inside.

It wasn’t a work of fiction. The contents were handwritten, entries dated, like a report might have been. Disappointment began to rise up in him, but as his eyes picked out the words, he realised that it wasn’t a report, but a _diary._ “It’s a real life account of a…God Eater, I think? From about ten years ago if the dates are anything to go by.”

“So…?” Zeke’s eyebrows were halfway up his forehead.

“Well, I was thinking we could read it together.”

“Zeke can’t read.” Keith pointed out again.

“Then I’ll read it aloud.” Hugo said, shrugging. “We can start now, actually.”

Zeke and Keith looked at each other, and then ran off back to Irae’s bed. Hugo remained at his own. Clearing off all the materials, he used his pillow as a stand for the book and laid down on his front. The pain in his ribs was already dulling.

“21st January 2074,” he read. “I’m keeping a log of our achievements as we continue to make progress through Northern Europe. Celica claims it’ll be better for the future if we note down what we do now, though I personally think a formal report would be better—but that’s the kind of bullshit I put up with, I guess.”

Zeke sniggered when Hugo swore. Keith laughed too. Hugo carried on, reading the entry as best as he could, though some words gave him pause when they were too difficult for him to make out or understand. The book was old, after all, and it was a miracle that any of it even survived. Turning the pages was harder than he expected, given his linked armlets, but he made it through.

After that night, it became routine. The God Eater’s diary ended up as a mainstay, an entry before bed to see the kids off to sleep. Hugo returned from his jobs in the day eager to find out the next occurrence in the life of the God Eater. One night, the guard at the door made an unwelcome visit, thumping him hard for reading aloud well after the sun had set. He quietened his voice and carried on nonetheless. The shine in Zeke’s eyes, the excitement on Keith’s face—it was always enough to make it worth it. 

As all good things, though, its end eventually came. As Hugo noticed the final entry approaching, he took the book to bed with him, awake well after the others have fallen asleep. The story of the God Eater showed no sign of coming to an end, but the book was alarmingly close to stopping short. Instead of waiting, he skipped straight to the final page, hoping that maybe the book had just been torn apart, that he was just missing the rest.

He felt ill as he’d read the scrawl. It wasn’t dated like the other entries, and was shockingly short to boot. _The Ashlands are fast approaching and we can’t outrun them. I’ve lost too many friends to the jaws of the Aragami and there are more coming now. Us, who remain, though, we won’t go down without a fight. I will kill as many as I can before I die. This is my promise._

_Sergeant Yumea, signing off._

It was the first time he’d seen the author’s name used in the text. Until that point, they’d been a nameless entity, but it had been their words that had been giving him strength. There was no closure for the God Eater, though, only an implication. They were dead, caught by the Ash that Hugo and his compatriots were resistant to. The realisation left him hollow.

His thoughts went to the others, of Zeke and Keith who were just children, of Irae who couldn’t bring himself to utter a word after everything he’d suffered. He couldn’t give them that ending. He held the book to his chest and stared up at the scarred ceiling above them.

He couldn’t tell them that the world is doomed to end in death and despair, because what else would they fight for if they knew that it would always be for nothing?

The night when they came to the final entry, he changed the words. “The Ashlands are fast approaching, so we are going underground. The friends I have left are my strength, and we will continue to fight them with all we have. I will kill as many Aragami as I can before I dare to meet my end. This is my promise. Sergeant Yumea, signing off.”

“That’s it?” Zeke said, looking sorely disappointed. “No big battle? No epic ending? They’re just, what, going underground?”

“Yumea is a girl’s name.” Keith said thoughtfully, “I thought we were talking about a boy God Eater this whole time!”

“What? A girl? No way, she’s so cool though!”

“Girls can be cool too! Corinne was cool too before…”

Keith glanced at the memorial wall before shaking his head. Hugo knew what he was thinking. Irae did too, patting him gently on the shoulder as Zeke puffed out his cheeks and bemoaned the ending of the diary once again. The guard at the door bashed his baton against the bars, snapping at them quieten down.

The truth was that nothing had changed. The ending of the story was always bleak, that was the lesson in the diary, and yet, Hugo didn’t want to believe the world was that cruel.

It was difficult to imagine anything else, though.

\-- 

“Hugo?” Phym’s voice was a needle in Hugo’s concentration, breaking the memory like a pin to a balloon. “What are you doing?”

Hugo blinked, the ball he’d been bouncing off the wall rolling past him as he missed the catch. He was sat in the men’s cabin, drowning in his memories while testing his injured shoulder with the practiced rhythm of throwing the ball over and over. It had been two days since the others had left, three days since he’d last been on the field. Inside, he felt a ravenous hunger, the desire to go hunting.

He shook his head as if to shake the feeling away and looked over at the door. Phym was there, her little halo of hair bouncing as she poked her head around the door.

“Oh, hey Phym,” Hugo offered her a smile, but it didn’t feel all that organic. “What brings you by? This is the guy’s cabin, you know.”

“I know.” she hesitated a moment, before picking up the ball as it came to a stop by her feet. She held it close to her face as she rolled it around in her hands, acting like she’d never encountered such an item before. “It’s just, I’m bored! Daddy’s not here and Zeke’s making dinner again, which is gonna be awful because he’s not good at it! Not like Lulu…” she stuck her tongue out. “We’re not gonna have any good food now that she’s gone! What do we do?”

“Pray, maybe.” Hugo laughed, though it was hardly funny given the gnawing hunger deep inside him. Real food wouldn’t have stopped the ache, though, even if it wasn’t Zeke cooking. His previous mission hadn’t been enough, that single devour he’d performed had left him wanting so much more. It was his main problem; that feeling of insatiable hunger reminded him too much of those times he’d slipped in the past, letting something a little more monstrous show. “So, did you come to find me because you thought I’d be more fun?”

She nodded eagerly. Crossing the room to come stand by him, she held the ball up and said, “What’s this, Hugo?”

“You’ve never seen one before? It’s a ball. You play games with it.” He took it from her, taking extra care to be gentle. “I’ll show you. Stand back, okay?”

He stood up as she moved, backing away across the cabin. “Okay, you’re ready? Now catch!”

She scrambled to grab the ball when he tossed it her way, looking confused. “Um, what now?”

“Throw it back to me.”

Phym frowned before she did throw, _hard,_ all of her power behind it.

Instead of throwing it _at_ him, though, her aim was completely off. He had to dart left in fear of it hitting the stereo and taking it out in one blow. The sudden movement had him aching, his chest raw, but he made it, catching it with one hand. It hit his gloved hand with an audible _thwack,_ and he had to be impressed. He knew she was strong, he’d seen it in the field, but it was still amusing considering her small stature.

Throwing it back again, he said, “Not bad, but try a little gentler next time, okay?”

“Okay!” She threw it again, calmer this time, and soon they had a rhythmic game of catch going on, her aim improving with every throw. She was a fast learner, and with each successful throw, she got bolder, putting more power behind her pitches again. “This is fun, Hugo!”

They kept it up, moving around the room as it got more intense, faster, more like a battle as they passed it back and forth between one another. With no one watching, no one to stop them or tell them to be quiet, Hugo didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to keep checking himself. It was freeing. It was powerful. And yet he kept thinking about it anyway, kept looking towards the door as if someone _might_ come by to scream.

Eventually their throws slowed, Hugo’s shoulder beginning to give him grief, before the game came to an end entirely. Phym claimed the ball for herself, humming in delight. “You’re so quick, Hugo. Faster than me. Faster than lots of the others too!”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Hugo said. She grabbed his hand with her free one, her tiny fingers wrapping around his own. “Hm?”

“Well, while Daddy’s not here, is it okay if I spend time with you? You’re the next closest to him, so…” She grinned. “Also, I think you need me.”

It took him a moment to register what she'd said. “What?”

She looked up at him, her eyes piercing. “Are you sad that you couldn’t go out with the others, Hugo?”

She was oddly perceptive. An Aragami in the shape of a human, and yet she was more empathetic than most people he’d ever met. “It’s not that,” he said, because it wasn’t. He could feel that gaping hole in his stomach widening, hunger like he’d always known it, ravenous and powerful, the monster inside of him opening its jaws. “I just…it’s hard, not doing anything while everyone else is out there fighting.”

“Oh! I get it.” Phym swung his arm, only to remember too late that it was his shoulder that was injured. “Oops! Sorry, Hugo! But you have to rest. Claire says you’ve gotta or you won’t get better, and if you don’t get better, then it’ll be real bad. I don’t want you to be hurt forever.”

“So you want me to go to bed, is that it?”

Phym shook her head. “No, no, that’s _boring_!” she paused, looking thoughtful. “What were you thinking about, Hugo? Before we played. You looked so sad…what made you feel bad?”

“Nothing important, I swear,” Hugo said, starting to feel listless as the two of them just stood there. Logically, he knew Hilda wouldn’t send him back to Pennywort, she’d _said_ as much, but he couldn’t kick his anxiety regardless. “Let’s say you and I help Zeke with dinner, huh? I need to stop sitting around.”

Phym stared up at him with her bright red eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was looking past his skin, peeling back his muscles and prying apart his skeleton, searching for that gnawing hole inside of him. She was far more intelligent than any of them truly realised, he knew that well.

But then, like a broken spell, she grinned and said, “Yeah! Let’s do it!”

She all but dragged him out of the room, nearly toppling him with her strength as she hauled him to the elevator. How did Irae keep up with her, he wondered? As they stood in the lift, he could hear the patter of rain, loud on the armour of Port Chrysanthemum, overpowering even the sounds of its eternal engine. He thought of his friends out there, travelling to their destination, ready to fight even as it poured down. He wished he was with them.

Zeke seemed to be having difficulty when they arrived in the cooking quarters, surrounded by a mess of artificial ingredients, the hobs on at full blast, the expression on his face that of a very overwhelmed AGE. He had his hands in his hair as they came in, despairing over a pot of what looked like vomit. “Cook, dammit! Why won’t you work?”

“Having fun in here?” Hugo asked as Phym skipped in ahead. Zeke snapped his head towards them, eyes wide. “Are you trying to burn us all down?”

“Hugo! Damn, man, you finally wiped that mopey look off your face?” Zeke ran over to greet them, ruffling Phym’s hair as he passed her by. “I’m dying here, like, seriously. My soup won’t heat up, I’ve lost half my ingredients, and I swear I’ve burnt some water. It’s a mess!”

“This is supposed to be soup?” Hugo asked, peering into the pot of vomit. Phym looked into it too, and the two of them shared an incredulous look. “Uh, I don’t know how to say this, Zeke, but this is…”

“Real bad!” Phym said, ruining his attempt to not crush Zeke’s confidence. “Worse than I thought! Oh nooooo….”

Zeke crossed his arms childishly, turning his back with a huff. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, Hugo? What are you doing coming in here and ragging on my lot? Whatever, alright, fine, if I’m so bad, you two do better then. Bet you can’t, especially not with that dodgy shoulder of yours.”

It was a thinly veiled attempt at getting out of doing the cooking, but Hugo took the bait anyway. “You’re on. Come on Phym, let’s show him, yeah?”

The truth of it was, he had no real experience in cooking, none of them did, given their backgrounds (Lulu’s proficiency was still a mystery), but anything he and Phym made up had to be better than Zeke’s tragic offering. Picking Phym up, Hugo sat her on the counter as he began organizing obscure pieces of food, trying to determine what needed cooking and what could be left. “Okay, so this goes here and that goes there…Phym, you turn the hobs off, we only need one, and I’ll chop this…”

As his hands got to work, Phym scrabbled around beside him, handing him what he needed while Zeke ran around after them, cleaning up what they were leaving behind. Hugo dealt the vomit pile in the only way he could—by binning what they had and starting it over again.

“I know how to do this!” Phym said when Hugo found himself at a loss as to how to proceed. “I watched Lulu! You just have to mix these parts with these parts, and...woo!”

She leant over him, putting everything into the pot and stirring it with the wooden spoon. “See, this is easy Zeke!” she said, laughing in her joy.

He muttered something beneath his breath and then sighed, a sheepish smile on his face. “You’re really showing me up, huh, Phym?” he said, before dragging Hugo off to the side as she continued to keep the pot going. “You sure you’re okay, dude? You got totally wrecked out there, and yet here you are hanging around like nothing happened. If you’re trying to prove a point, you don’t have to.”

“Phym wanted to have fun, who would I be to deny her?” Hugo said, watching as she carefully tended to her pot.

“You’ve opened a serious can of worms there, my dude. Bet she’s gonna ask to play Hide and Seek next. You played that with her yet, Hugo? She’s nuts! Can’t ever find her, unless Amy’s left food out on the side. Then it’s child’s play.”

Hugo could imagine. Phym had an appetite that rivalled even the biggest of Aragami they’d faced. He looked back to Zeke and said, “I don’t know how Irae keeps up with her.”

“I’ve never seem him look as happy as he does when he’s with her, which is bull, because I was _tons_ of fun back in jail.” Zeke said, looking a little put out. “Hey, so, not that I’m trying to dredge anything up, but what is _up_ with you today? You’ve been all depressed ever since they told you that you can’t go out.”

Avoiding his eyes, Hugo shrugged. “I’m not depressed.”

“Dude, you need to look in a mirror from time to time, your moping face is legendary. Phym’s being trailing me all morning going, ‘ _why’s Hugo all sad?_ ” Zeke’s Phym impression was atrocious, but it made Hugo snicker all the same. “There we go! That’s better. Seriously though, man. What’s up with you?”

“Just hungry,” Hugo said, which was the truth, even if it sound ridiculous to say aloud. Absentmindedly, he asked, “Do you remember the God Eater’s diary?”

“Huh? That book you found way out in the city like, lifetimes ago? Yeah, what about it?”

Hugo thought about telling him the truth of the ending, but decided against it at the last second. “Nothing, I was just thinking about it. Thinking about the Port. Way back then, you know?”

“Oh boy,” Zeke leant against the counter. “Letting you think about stuff is the worst, huh? Let me guess, you still think that Hilda’s gonna drop us off there because we dared have one day off of the field. Hasn’t she beaten it into your thick skull yet? She’s not gonna do that. She like, paid good money for us!”

It wasn’t exactly his whole problem, but he couldn’t deny that it played a part in his current state. “I don’t want to be useless, Zeke.”

“Who said you were? Okay, so you took one nasty knock in a fight, but it’s not like back at Port Pennywort! Hilda’s not gonna let you get killed out there because you’re injured. Yeesh,” Zeke bashed him over the shoulder with no concern for his injuries. He preferred it over being coddled, even as pain shot through him. “We’re…what’s that word that you like so much?”

Hugo knew what he meant, even before he said it. It was a word that he’d used a thousand times, back before everything, back when it had been just them in a cell, trying their best to survive. “Family.”

Zeke fake-gagged, but he recovered quickly, a smirk on his face. “And what’s that word mean to you, Hugo?”

He didn’t even have to think. “Everything.”

Zeke threw his hands up in the air. “You, my friend, are the _biggest_ sap I’ve ever met, and I’m including Amy in that. But I’ll forgive you for it, because you’re my best friend and if I don’t, I’ll have to figure out how to make Lulu my new bestie, which is terrifying.”

“Lulu’s sweet.” Hugo said. “There’s always Claire too.”

“Even harder than Lulu!” Zeke sighed, pulling back. “This isn’t a blanket forgiveness though. I’ve still got stuff to hold against you.”

Hugo had his share of ideas as to what he meant by that, but now wasn’t the time to be dredging up even more old memories. Instead, he let it go, forcing a smile. “Thanks, I think? Seriously, though. I’m fine, I’ll figure myself out. It’s just restlessness.”

“That’s our Hugo, keeping his bullshit to himself so the rest of us don’t feel bad for him.” Zeke prodded him in the chest accusingly. “You try and protect us too much, you know? We’re all well-adjusted adults who can take on our fair share of crap now. Lean on us from time to time”

“Well-adjusted?” Hugo repeated incredulously.

“Okay, okay, maybe not, but you know what I mean. And besides! We’re not as fragile as you think. You’ve gotta give us some credit from time to time. So stop thinking about the past, and get our dinner made. Talk to Hilda if you’re really worried, but you don’t have anything to be moping about, seriously.”

Hugo knew he was right, but it was difficult to internalise. He was about to reply when Phym suddenly cried out. “Hugo! Zeke!”

Both of them spun on the spot, looking back to where Phym was tending to a now viciously bubbling pot. “It’s getting big! Too big! Uh oh!”

Hugo and Zeke shared an alarmed look before they both dashed over to turn down the hob in fear of the soup either evaporating entirely or spilling over the sides. Phym giggled at their mad rush, turning down the stove as Zeke and Hugo rescued the pot from the top. “Dinner’s ready!” she chimed. “Happy! Happy!”

She hopped off the countertop and grinned up at him. She was so bright, he thought, and he didn’t know how she did it. It was so difficult to remember that she was an Aragami when she acted this way. She was more human than he was, in some respects.

“Did I do a good job?” she asked, hopping on the spot. “Did I? Did I?”

“You did,” he said, aware of Zeke watching, aware that Phym was waiting for his response. That gaping hole inside of him still called out for something to fill it, still demanded he return to the field and swallow something whole lest he lose his mind entirely.

He had to drown it out. He didn’t want to slip on himself. The sink on the wall, the radio. That hadn’t even been him at his worst.

“Really?” Phym asked.

He forced himself to speak anew, his memories flashing back to a day when he’d not been so in control, a memory that made him sick even now. How weak willed was he, to lose himself so quickly?

He had to push it down. Forcing a smile to his face, he said, “I’d say it’s perfect.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been sitting on the first half of this for the better part of two and a half months before update 1.30 came out and put Hugo in the med-bay anyway. i can't believe i predicted this (minus Neal), but it gave me my mojo back to get this chapter done anyway. as always, i'm taking liberties with characterisation and lore re: AGEs, but damn it if the game is gonna tell me that they're closer to Aragami than regular God Eaters, then of COURSE I'm gonna have my fun with it
> 
> anyways, this portrayal of Hugo isn't quiiiiiiite game accurate but i wanted to do a character study so damn it i'm gonna do one. i hope Irae's not too much of an issue! the game's story makes it literally impossible not to mention the protagonist, unlike GE1/2 where you could safely remove them....


	3. RETREAD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A restless night leads to an unwanted conversation, and a talk about the darker times that came before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a touch of darker violence in this chapter.

It was a restless night.

Zeke and Keith were discreetly trying to watch Bugarally on the bunk beneath Hugo, the light spilling out into the room as he tried—and failed—to find a position that wouldn’t aggravate his scored back. He’d slept in worse conditions than this with ease, and yet tonight, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his mind to settle down. There was too much going on with his body, too many distractions all around. The hunger from earlier remained, ever present.

He wondered if he might have found the prison easier to sleep in just because of how acclimatised he’d been to it.

Turning again, he winced as it gave his shoulder grief—and then the sound of shuffling beneath him had him turning back again. Keith and Zeke’s heads popped up at his side, and Keith whispered, “Are we bothering you?”

Hugo narrowed his eyes, the light of the tablet they’d brought with them harsh. “No?”

Zeke didn’t look convinced. “Dude, we can hear you moving around like crazy up here. If we’re keeping you awake, just say.”

“Seriously, it’s not you.” Hugo said, sitting up. His friends always looked different in their night clothes, softer around the edges, their armlets the only hint to their true nature. Did he seem the same? “You two carry on watching your show. It’s not bothering me.”

The two brothers looked between one another, and then shrugged. “Alright,” Keith said. “But just say if we’re annoying you.”

Both of them jumped back down to their own bed. Hugo stared up at the ceiling (one that he still didn’t know) and sighed.

He wasn’t sleeping tonight.

In the end, he got up and climbed down the bunk, careful to try and keep his footsteps light to not alert the others. If he was lucky, they’d remain absorbed in their show and would be none-the-wiser.

It wasn’t that easy, though.. “Hugo?” Zeke said, but Hugo only shook his head and put a finger to his lips. “Hey—”

“I need some fresh air,” Hugo said. “I’ll be back later.”

He left before they could push more questions on him. The Chrysanthemum seemed eerily quiet at night, the only sounds around him being the buzz of its inner workings and the clatter of rain from outside. Usually, it bustled with activity, but four of them were missing, out somewhere on an expedition, probably finding shelter from the downpour right that moment. He should have been out there too with them.

Habits were difficult things to break, and he couldn’t help but worry over their health. He was the one who drew the heat in battles, who provided the support when his companions needed it, the one who gave too much of himself whenever he helped with a Link-Aid. He had to do it, because the thought of any of the Hounds getting hurt on his watch was too much to bear.

But here, now—he had no say in their wellbeing. They would fight their fight and he could only hope they’d come back alive. It was out of his hands.

Though the Chrysanthemum was bigger than the jail cell he’d once called a home, there were still very few places to actually go within it. When he’d said ‘fresh air’, he’d been thinking of the bridge, but it would be just as quiet there; Amy was already in bed, and he doubted Faith would be around either.

Still, he had to go somewhere. The area they were in was hardly a high level restricted ash-zone, and there was nobody around to _stop_ him from heading outside to clear his head. If he just grabbed his God Arc, then he’d be fine. Heading to the elevator, he went to press the button that would take him to the third floor.

“Hugo?”

Hilda’s voice had him stopping short. He hadn’t heard the door to her office open, but there was no denying that she was likely standing at the end of the hall behind him. He turned to face her, finding that she was still dressed, a wine glass held daintily between her fingers.

“You’re still awake?” he said.

“I could ask the same of you. I thought I heard someone walking about.” she paused a moment to take a sip of her drink. “If you’re looking for the bathroom, then we both know you’re going the wrong way."

The way she spoke, it was like she knew exactly what his intentions had been. In the quiet standoff between the two of them, Hugo wondered, was this how a child felt when they’d been caught out by a parent? He hadn’t had much experience in that regard—he barely remembered the faces of his mother or father now. All that remained of his childhood in his memory were their voices, the word _chiquito_ echoing in his ears even after all these years. He had no idea what it meant. Nobody at Pennywort had ever been able to tell him, and even now, he wondered if he’d misremembered it, distorted by his inexperience with language at the time.

Hilda’s eyes were like ice. Hugo made to turn away, uncomfortable beneath her gaze. “If I disturbed you from your work, I’m sorry. You can get back to it. I’m not going far.”

As he pressed the button on the lift, he heard her heels hitting the floor behind him, each footstep bringing her closer. _Hurry up,_ he thought. _Dammit, lift, come on…_

“Where are you planning on going?” she asked

“Out.” he replied. “Not for long, just to—”

The lift cut him off, arriving with a _ding._ He breathed out in relief, stepping forward as he intended to make a quick escape. A hand catching him by his arm had him stopping, however, the grip strong enough to make him pause. “Wait.”

He could free himself easily, Hilda was only human, she couldn’t ever hope to stop him, but he didn’t fight her grip. “What is it?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, still holding onto him. She was being so careful, not like how the guards used to haul him about. “It isn’t like you to skulk about in the middle of the night, and I can’t have you running off into the Ashlands on your own. I thought you were meant to be level-headed.”

The lift’s doors closed again, and Hilda let him go. He turned back to face her, aware that he had no choice _but_ to carry on the conversation now. “I’m just…I just needed some space to think.”

“You’re always thinking.” Hilda sighed, taking another sip from her glass. “I swear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re always devising little plans in that head of yours. Back-ups after back-ups, one thought after another. Do you ever give yourself a rest?”

The question was gentle, kind, concerned. Hilda was the best they could ever have asked for, they were safe under her care, he knew it logically and yet he still couldn’t make himself settle. One hand subconsciously going to his stomach, he shook his head. “It’s not like that, seriously. I should go, I really need a second.”

Tilting her head, Hilda said, “I think I know what’s wrong.”

All at once, he was reminded of Phym, her inquisitive questions, how she saw straight through him. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you trust me, Hugo?”

His answer didn’t come immediately, her words throwing him for the loop. Did he? He thought of the Chrysanthemum, how he’d come to think of it as a home, how they spoke about Ports and plans and the future. She encouraged him. She was kind.

“Of course I do,” he replied after a moment, but his own voice sounded strained.

“That’s not true.” Hilda looked a little remorseful as she regarded him. “Something’s not right with you. Ever since I told you that you weren’t going on that expedition, you’ve been acting odd, and I fear it’s because of me. You’re waiting for me to turn on you, to give you back to Pennywort, to do something that means you have to fight back again.”

He wished he’d never left the cabins now. “Hilda, I—”

“Follow me,” she cut him off, gesturing with her free hand. “I’d rather not do this in the hall.”

She turned her back on him, leading him into her office. He’d been in here plenty of times, negotiating, talking, begging, but now it felt different, unfamiliar and a little cold. The rain kept hammering down. The ravenous hunger inside him kept eating away at him little by little. He couldn’t focus. He wanted to get out.

Instead, as she offered him a seat, he said, “You want to talk privately?”

“I want to talk about you,” Hilda sat down at her desk, leaning forward and steepling her fingers. “You’re quite the actor around your friends, but you can’t fool me. I don’t mean to dredge up your past, but I have a feeling that’s half the problem.”

Instantly on the defence, Hugo crossed his arms, refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s not.”

“It’s incredible, what you do, how you manage to make it seem like you’re not affected by it. You speak up, you fight for what you want, you refuse to back down. Why, if I didn’t already know, I’d find it difficult to believe that you’re an AGE.”

“The others can’t fight for what they want,” Hugo said, hoping he was making sense. “Irae, Zeke, neither of them know how to bargain. Keith is all computers and tech and no social skills. If I don’t do it, we all lose.”

“Was it like that back at your Port too?”

Hugo closed his eyes. The memories were brutal things, ragged knife edges along his psyche, but he managed a nod. “They never listened to me, though. Not like you do.”

“No, I expect they wouldn’t have.” Hilda always looked so sad when she spoke about the other Ports. Having seen her own, Hugo often found himself wondering what they could have been like, had they been hers to begin with. “You’ve all been through so much, haven’t you?”

“I’m still waiting to realise that this is just a dream,” Hugo admitted, glancing down towards his armlets. They hadn’t been linked for a long time now. He was still adjusting to that fact. “Any moment, and I think I could just wake up in the cells again, all of this just some cruel fancy that feels real. I always said that I wanted to pave the way for a world where we didn’t have to be treated so badly, but I know that things weren’t ever supposed to go well for us. We have to fight tooth and nail for every single thing in this world and this all just seems like it’s been too easy—”

He came to a stop abruptly, the realisation hitting him like an Aragami’s tail slamming into his chest. “I’ve gone from having nothing to having everything,” he said, “and now I don’t know how to deal with it.”

His ears were ringing. When he looked down again, his hands were shaking, that hunger refusing to leave him. More than anything, he wanted his God Arc. He wanted something to hunt, to kill, to _eat._ His lungs felt too tight, he was having trouble drawing any kind of breath.

Hilda said, “Have you ever considered that this _is_ what you’ve been fighting for?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, barely able to hear himself over the growing roar of the need to devour.

“This wasn’t easy, when you consider how long it took you to get here,” Hilda said, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve looked through your files. I know how long you were at that Port for. You spent twelve years being PW-01407, of losing your friends, of fighting for your life to survive while the people around you treated you as a weapon, and then like dirt. Twelve years for just a few months of happiness so far? I wouldn’t call that easy. I’d call that soul-crushing.”

 _I’ve looked through your files._ He was on his feet instantly, shaking his head. “It’s not—I don’t understand. I don’t _understand_. You know what I’ve done? You have to, if you’ve read my files. Why aren’t you afraid then? Why aren’t you…?”

Hilda didn’t react to the outburst. She remained placid, sitting there all too calm. “Human beings like to believe that anything different to them are a danger—but I don’t agree.”

“And if they’re right?” Hugo had lost track of the words, a rarity for him when he was usually so calm, so collected. He always knew what to say, it was his most valuable talent, but here and now he’d lost any sense of control. “You ignore the laws, the legislations, and I’m grateful to you for that, I am, but there’s a reason that our armlets have restraints on them! There’s this hunger inside me, Hilda, there always is, but I haven’t been anywhere near my God Arc in two days and I can feel it, like it’ll swallow me whole. I don’t know when I’ll slip on it!”

“All God Eaters hunger for more,” Hilda said. “Even the old types. If you ever saw Ein—”

“It’s not the same,” Hugo said, not wanting to hear it, not wanting to be compared to the God Eaters of old who were humanity’s only hope, not a tool to be used. “The others, Zeke, Keith, I don’t think they feel it, but for me, it’s—”

“So what do you want me to do?” Hilda asked. “Do you want me to restrain you?”

Hugo stopped short, looking back down at his hands. A memory flashed through his mind, seventeen years old and two guards at his feet, beaten within an inch of their lives and his own head swimming in the delirium of what he’d just done. Hyperaware of everything in that moment, he swore could hear his blood rushing around his body, his heart thumping hard in his chest. There was an Aragami inside him, inside them all.

It would be safer if she did, but he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t go back to that life. He’d vowed to break their chains, and he couldn’t throw that freedom away. Shaking his head, he sunk back into his seat. “No. No. I’m sorry.”

Twelve years of being PW-1407, she’d said. How had it been that long?

“Tell me about it,” Hilda said. “The incident that I know that you’re referring to, explain it to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a feeling you’re not seeing it the way I might—I think you’re seeing it through a Pennywort lens.”

He clasped his hands, his head bowed. Three years ago. He could still taste the blood in his mouth, could still hear the blare of the alarms as he set them off himself.

“It starts with a Quadriga,” he said.

And so, he told the story.

\-- 

Zeke should never have been on the mission.

Just one day before and Hugo had been attending to him on the field after his leg had been snapped in two, the bone splintering through his skin. Now he’d been sent out again, the wound roughly healed but not perfect, and the city was in chaos, exploding around them as three God Eaters struck out with their weapons. It was a Quadriga they’d been sent to fight, but along the way, they’d been ambushed by Zygotes.

The Quadriga screeched as Irae slammed his blades into its treads, the din of it vibrating the very air around them. He’d taken the lead, drawing the Aragam’s fire while Zeke hung back, tackling the Zygotes by himself. It was fast paced, furious, but that was how they needed it; the quicker things ended, the better.

“How are we doing?” Hugo called as Irae readied himself to devour, the Quadriga collapsing on his front. He was desperate to get in there too, to take those Oracle Cells for himself, but he had to be sure of Zeke first. “Zeke, report!”

“Hanging in there!” Zeke cried, and Hugo turned in time to see him swing his hammer down into a nearby Zygote’s body. The fluids from its body came gushing out in a sickening display. “Focus on your own thing, I’ve got this!”

The Quadriga was already getting back up. Zeke was right. Switching to Mayfly’s Will, he began firing frozen bullets at its missile pods, hoping to break the bonds to do more damage. As it was, he was having little effect—he needed to get up closer, but leaving Zeke wasn’t an option.

“Irae!” he called. “Break the pods!”

Irae shot off, a lightning bolt in his Burst state. Flipping into the air like a well-trained acrobat, he swung his twin blades against the pods as Hugo backed him up, firing more and more bullets in an attempt to crack them open. Each strike brought them closer to the end, he knew that, but it wasn’t going fast enough.

A cry from Zeke drew his attention, but when Hugo turned, he was fine, still keeping pace with the Zygotes. A roar from the Quadriga had him twisting back just as quickly, his eyes going wide when he realised what was going on. It rose to its wheels, rolling its head.

“Irae, get back!” Hugo snapped, but it was too late, Irae was still in the air and there was no time to move.

It charged forward, the pod that Irae had been targeting slamming into his chest and throwing him hard into the ground. Hugo’s breath caught in his throat, fearing that his friend had been caught in the treads as the monster rolled past. It was only as the Quadriga passed by that he saw him lying on the floor, merely stunned. “Irae!”

He didn’t move, forcing Hugo into action. Rushing forward as the Quadriga turned to face him, he refused to slow. Time was of the utmost essence.

Skidding past Irae, Hugo grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him up in the same movement. He had to focus, share his life with him. Link-Aid was the only thing that would keep him alive, but as he passed his energy over to Irae, Hugo instantly realised he’d overdone it, his heartbeat slowing in his chest. The city around him grew dangerously dark.

Moments too late did he realise the Quadriga was charging towards them again, and it was only with seconds to spare that Hugo pushed Irae out of its path. The Aragami went rampaging across the field, and, perhaps foolishly, Hugo chased after it, Imaginia in hand.

Those pods needed breaking. He could swallow his fill of recovery pills afterwards.

He leapt upwards, steel meeting steel as he cut downwards. With a satisfying crack, the pods fractured, the bond utterly demolished. “Aim for the weak points!” he shouted as he landed, but Irae’s aim was still unsteady from the fall he’d taken. His first shot went wide, as did the second. Only the third one hit.

The Quadriga’s chest opened up suddenly, missiles protruding from its front. Hugo darted forward without thinking, intent on jamming his blade into it to prevent it from firing. He had to stop it, or Zeke would get caught in the blast.

He forgot that Irae was still behind him, that he was still using his gun, that he was still disoriented.

The bullet struck him in the back, the world going black as his blood turned to ice, the bullet frosting his organs as it passed through. It exited, hitting the Quadriga, exploding as it made contact. The blast tossed Hugo halfway across the field, his body rolling roughly against the concrete before coming to a stop.

White noise. Unconsciousness began to edge in, dimming his vision. Everything hurt, it was all so cold and his limbs refused to work. The Aragami were still there, Zeke and Irae were still in danger, but he couldn’t _move._

His radio crackled, but he could hardly hear it. _“Hound—down, call—lost—”_

He felt hands on his back, warm ones, accompanied by a rush of energy. Oracle Cells flooded him, healing the hole in his back, chasing the frost out. As he raised his head, he saw Irae knelt in front of him, looking utterly stricken as he provided the Link-Aid. Hugo knew that look. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry—_

A panicked yell from Zeke had both of their attention. As Hugo turned his head, he saw him, scrambling backwards on the floor. The Zygotes were dead but the Quadriga remained. All of its guns were trained on him, and Zeke’s attempts to get up were halted by his injured leg. His God Arc was useless, too far out of his reach.

They were going to lose him.

Hugo was on his feet before Irae’s Link-Aid was even complete, snatching his God Arc from the city’s dusty floor. Irae reached for him, his hand brushing past Hugo’s sleeve, but he was already gone. He had seconds, if that. Not a single one could be wasted.

The missiles fired. Zeke ducked down, covering his head. Deploying his shield, Hugo threw himself in front of Zeke, the missiles slamming down around them. The explosions seared at his skin, but he kept the shield in place despite the knock-back.

“I’ve got you, Zeke,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve got you.”

Clashing steel. Irae was on the Quadriga’s back, striking wildly at its pods with indescribable fury etched onto his face. The last of the missiles explode, and Hugo collapsed to his knees, his breathing hard.

 _“Oracle response is fading,”_ came the static voice of the operator. _“Hurry this shit up, it’s getting late.”_

Shifting his God Arc back to Mayfly’s Will, Hugo got to his feet, his face set in a grimace. “Screw you.”

As Irae continued his frenzied assault, devouring at every instance, Hugo fired, every last particle of his own Oracle going into the bullets. He wanted to get in there, to devour the Quadriga himself, but there was no opportunity. Zeke came first.

With a roar, the beast finally fell, its cells dispersing back into the atmosphere. Instantly, Hugo dropped his God Arc, turning back to Zeke, his concern for him overpowering everything else. “Are you—”

“I’m sorry,” Zeke said, the words so fast that they were nearly incomprehensible. He was shaking, his eyes glassy as he spoke. “I know you told me to run if it got dicey but I couldn’t—I saw you get shot and I freaked and then it was on me and I couldn’t do it. I got knocked down and I couldn’t get up and— _damn it!_ ”

He slammed his fist into the ground. Irae went to him, kneeling at his side. Instead of helping him stand, though, he picked him up outright. Hugo expected Zeke to protest, but for once, he didn’t say a thing, only leaning his head on Irae’s chest as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Hugo couldn’t bear the sight. He approached, intent on helping, on doing something, only for Irae to reach out and pull him close, his free hand wrapped around his shoulders.

“Sorry for putting a bullet in you,” he whispered, his rusty voice tearing Hugo’s heart into shreds. It had been so long since he’d heard it.

“It was my mistake,” Hugo said, pulling back. He wasn’t angry at Irae. He wasn’t even angry at himself. There was so much rage inside of him, but it wasn’t directed at any of them. He’d been distracted because Zeke had been on the mission, one he shouldn’t have been sent out on in the first place.

It was the Port’s fault.

“Hugo,” Zeke opened his eyes, lifting his head slightly. “You’re more reckless than you think you are, you know?”

Hugo didn’t meet his gaze. “I know.”

They returned, downtrodden and restless. Hugo was starving, but not for any kind of food that the Port would deliver. The guard at the door sneered at them as the three of them were marched back in, his tone as harsh as ever when greeted them. “Well, look what the cat dragged in! I’m surprised you made it back, given what we were hearing on the radio. Thought we might have one less meal to deliver tonight.”

Out the corner of his eye, Hugo saw the other guard nudge Zeke forward. He’d been making his way as best as he could, but his prior injury was still slowing them down. Clenching his fists, Hugo said, “We wouldn’t have been so disadvantaged if you’d let our injured rest.”

The guard gave him a poisonous look as he linked Irae’s armlets together and shoved him back into the cell. “Someone should cut that tongue of yours out, seeing as you insist on talking shit. You AGEs don’t need to speak anyway, that one there just proves the point.”

 _I’d like to see you try,_ Hugo thought, but to say as much would wind him in much hotter water. Instead, he lifted his hands towards the guard, a silent surrender, hoping his face didn’t betray how he felt inside.

“So you _can_ be docile,” the guard muttered, and Hugo wanted so badly to let himself slip, to show him exactly what kind of hornet’s nest he was poking. “Not so hard to stay on your leash now, is it?”

“What did you just say to him?” Zeke’s voice was like ice down his back. Hugo’s heart jumped up into his throat instantly. “Hugo, dammit, don’t let them just talk to you like that, do someth—!”

The guard who had shoved Zeke previously struck him across the back with his baton, cutting off the rest of his sentence. In an instant, Zeke twisted, bringing up his hands to protect himself. It did little to ward the guard off, the second blow toppling him entirely. He hit the ground with a gasp as the guard raised his arm once again.

Inside of his chest, Hugo felt something snap, like a dam had been demolished inside of him. Snatching his hands back from the first guard, he turned on the second one, grabbing his raised wrist. He could feel his fingers digging harshly into the man’s skin.

“Drop it,” Hugo said, his tone dangerously low. “Don’t touch him again.”

Instantly, the first guard responded, pulling his baton out. Anticipating his movements, Hugo turned halfway, snatching it from his grip. Letting go of the second guard, he swung it into the other guard’s abdomen, sending him to his knees with a single strike. The thrill of it made his blood sing.

The second guard, now freed from his grip, was on him immediately, smacking his baton into the back of Hugo’s head. He staggered forward, pain exploding in his skull, but it was nothing like an attack from an Aragami. It hurt on a superficial level, but it lacked the lingering pain. It faded as quickly as it came, and he wasn’t one for faltering, not in a fight.

More than anything, he was starving. The need to devour was incessant, but with no God Arc, he had to make do with just the baton and his own body. He spun on the spot, rearing back with his fist and punching the second guard square in the nose. The man went wobbling backwards as the first guard got to his feet, but Hugo had no intention of letting him recover. Striking backwards with his elbow, he put all of his power into the blow, sending him sprawling back into the nearest wall.

The second guard pushed himself back up, rushing at him. Hugo smirked, beginning to enjoy the back and forth, ducking as he struck out and then retaliating. He grabbed him around the waist only to lift him up and flip him over his shoulder.

As he hit the floor, the first guard bounced back, using the wall to give himself enough momentum to rush Hugo once again. The punch he threw his way caught him in the jaw, but Hugo had never been fragile. He countered, shoving him far enough back that the baton would once again prove effective.

It only took one more hit to down the man entirely, a blow to the head not so different to the ones he and his friends had endured time and time again.

Both of them laid still, bloodied and out cold. Amidst the carnage, Hugo stood, his chest heaving as he tried to drag in enough oxygen to keep himself upright. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He’d endured a lifetime of abuse at their hands, and this was just the once.

Numbly, he raised his hand holding the baton again, intent on striking even though the two are unconscious.

“Hugo, stop!”

Keith’s voice was stricken, high-pitched. Hugo turned to look into the cell, his heart sinking as he that realised all their eyes were on him. Sho, Marr, Lil, Keith, Irae. Horror or awe? He couldn’t tell what they were looking at him with.

As he looked back to what he’d done, the baton fell from his grasp, clattering to the floor and rolling away. Bile rose up in his throat as he stared at the mess he’d made of the two guards.

They would kill him for this.

He didn’t know what was worse; that he’d been capable of it or that he’d only gone and proven that what they’d said about him had been right all along. He _was_ unstable. He _was_ more Aragami than human. He _did_ need his armlets linked.

He had to control the damage. “Zeke, can you get up?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” Zeke forced himself to his feet. “You uh…you really showed them, huh?”

“Yeah,” Hugo said stiffly. “Give me your hands.”

Zeke frowned, but did so nonetheless. Hugo gently pressed his armlets together until they locked. “Get inside the cell, I’ll shut the door.”

“What? What the hell are you doing?”

“If you’re still free and the door is open, they’re going to think you had as much part in this as I did,” Hugo said, shoving him carefully towards the cell. Zeke pushed back against him. “Zeke, listen to me, don’t fight me on this.”

“And let you take the fall for beating these bastards into tomorrow? No way!” Zeke twisted on the spot, shaking his head in defiance. “This isn’t your fault, dammit. I was the one who told you to something and you did!”

“It _is_ my fault, so do as I ask, Zeke, please.” Hugo said, desperate now. Zeke looked up at him with a wounded expression on his face, and he fumbled for the right words. “This isn’t a good thing, alright? I know they deserved it but it’s wrong. I made a mistake and I won’t let you be punished for it.”

“Dammit, Hugo—!”

Hardening his heart, Hugo pushed him into the cell, swinging the door shut before he can attempt an escape. Zeke bashed his armlets into the bars in frustration. “You idiot, they’re gonna have your head for this! Irae, do something!”

Irae couldn’t do a thing. None of them could, now the door was closed. Hugo went to the wall where the emergency alarm was and pulled it down. None of the guards had been able to make it to it during the fight. It was the only blessing in his blighted situation.

It began to blare, high pitched and raw. With that awful, gaping hunger still deep within him, Hugo sat on the floor, his back to the others, and waited.

\--

Hilda didn’t interrupt him once. She listened to the entire story, unaffected, calm, and most of all, neutral.

When he was finished, she sat back in her seat and said, “But they didn’t kill you. Quite the contrary, given that you’re still sat in front of me.”

“We were their _aces,_ we were too valuable to kill in the end.” Hugo said, a wry smile on his face. Not that they’d let him off lightly. “They let the guards I’d attacked decide my disciplinary. Solitary, reduced rations, more. I won’t bore you with the details because I don’t want to revisit it, but you can use your imagination.”

 _“They said you were intelligent,”_ the Director of Port Pennywort had said to him as he stood awaiting his fate. _“Aragami are like that though. Scarily adaptive.”_

He still couldn’t wipe those words from his memory. Nor could he wipe away his own response. _“Yeah, I guess they are.”_

Hilda sat forward, her mouth pressed into a line. It was the first hint of emotion he’d seen from her since he’d started telling the tale. “I won’t pretend that I understand what your past did to you, because that’s your own battle,” she said, her words slow, deliberate, careful. “What I will tell you, though, is that you’re looking at the situation with the wrong viewpoint.”

“You’re telling me you’re not afraid? After everything I just said, you don’t care?”

“No, I’m not afraid. I’m telling you that you’re seeing things from the wrong perspective.”

She was determined to try and get through to him, it seemed. He couldn’t deny that he was touched by the sentiment. “What do you mean?”

“You mentioned that hunger again—but tell me, was that really what made you attack those guards?”

He thought about it. It wasn’t difficult to remember the details; it had been the moment Zeke had been struck that he’d turned on the guards. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just saw Zeke go down and I lost control.”

A hint of a smile crept onto Hilda’s lips. “So it was your protective streak, not a desire to eat, correct?”

Hugo didn’t now how to respond, because he wasn’t sure if he believed it. Everything he’d ever been told, it all melded together into one chaotic mess. “I guess I’ve never been that interested in devouring humans, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

Saying it aloud made him laugh, because if anything, it sounded ludicrous. Hilda laughed too, shaking her head. “Well, that’s promising. Listen, I think the real issue here is what you’re internalising. Think about it this way; do your friends seem that much like Aragami? Lulu, Zeke, Keith, Irae—do any of them feel remotely like monsters to you?”

“I don’t know, have you seen Lulu or Irae in a fight?”

“You know what I mean, Hugo.”

He considered it. She was right, when she said it like that; Keith couldn’t even head out into the Ash. Zeke was as laid back as anything. Lulu doted over Phym like an adoring fan, and Irae did the best he could as her make-shift parental figure. “None of them do,” he said. “They wouldn’t be capable of being monsters."

“Then why are you so sure that you’re capable of it?”

“Because I’ve seen the evidence,” Hugo said. “Because I’ve seen what I can do.”

Hilda sighed, her shoulders going lax. “One day, I hope you’ll see it through my eyes, but for now, I can see that I can’t change your mind. Well, let me move on, then, perhaps I can reassure you in a different way. I have no intention of throwing you out, or giving you back, not when you’ve proved your will to me a thousand times over. So, if it makes you feel any better, Hugo, I’ll give you a different opportunity. Throw the Pennywort name away. Take Chrysanthemum instead.”

She’d never shown him pity, only support, and that was why he could find it in himself to believe her words. She owned him, the same way the Director of Port Pennywort did, but he was not on her leash. In taking on her Port’s name, he wouldn’t be _under_ her, he would still be on the same level. They were partners, of equal standing, of equal burdens.

_Throw the Pennywort name away_

He’d never heard such a powerful statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMMM at this point i'm pretty sure that my vision doesn't match up with canon (especially given the details from Hugo's chapter novel thingy) but that's how it be sometimes. I just really wanted to explore AGEs and what it really means to be one when you're that close to being an Aragami yourself and all that, so that's where most of the plotlines for this fic are coming from. No Phym this time, but Hilda felt important to include!
> 
> As for Hugo--given the names of his weapon (Imagina) and his clothing (Esperanza) I'm headcanoning that he's of Spanish descent. This is pretty minor in the grand scheme of things, but I'm sure it'll show up again at some point. Also, the fight scenes for GE are really fun to reimagine in writing? Getting the game mechanics in there is a challenge but I love doing it, hence why I keep writing out these elaborate battles haha! Friendly fire seemed to have been removed in GE3, but I have many (not so) fond memories of Kanon taking me out from behind....good times.
> 
> I wish they'd taken the Chrysanthemum name in game. I can dream...


End file.
